


An (Un)expected Call

by LothrilZul



Series: Winter'verse [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LothrilZul/pseuds/LothrilZul
Summary: Following an unexpected radio call, in a series of rapidly escalating events, Scribe Haynes from Adams Air Force Base finally learns what the leadership is up to.Date: 2288 May 26thSummary, asLesliewifeofbathput it:"A burnt out recruit takes a chance and follows her gut, leading her to a terrifying discovery."This is a standalone piece, that placed second in a contest.





	An (Un)expected Call

**Author's Note:**

> This take place parallel to the events of Chapters 5(&6) of Nuclear Winter.
> 
>  
> 
> [Full sized illustration on dA](https://lothrilzul.deviantart.com/art/Inktober-Day-7-Shy-711758703)  
> 

Scribe Haynes slowly shook her head and frowned as she examined the contents of the metal container, “More uniforms? What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, let’s take them to inventory, shall we?” Initiate Jacobs whined and Haynes agreed with him. It was the fifth box on apparel they had to list today. It was like they were counting on a huge number of people to sign up in the near future. Whatever the leadership was up to, they didn’t seem interested in sharing their plans with the likes of them.

“Right,” she said and put the lid away. “Field scribe sweaters,” she stopped for a moment to count them, “..., eighteen, _twenty_ pieces in total. Four sizes, from S to XL.”

“It’s always twenty. You shouldn’t count,” he said tiredly. It was obvious that he has had enough for today, but Haynes was not about to let that comment pass without an answer.

“Yes, I should. That is my job,” she chided him gently. “And you are here to help me with it,” she jerked her chin towards the clipboard in his hands, “twenty. From S to XL, 5 pieces each.” He scribbled it down and she put the lid back on.

“But what’s the point? Someone obviously put them into the crate and they must’ve count it too! We are wasting time,” he huffed. Haynes sometimes felt that managing inventory was a tiring task indeed, but Jacobs was missing the point.

“You never heard that it's better be safe than sorry? Or to measure twice before you cut something? To double check everything is not a waste of time, but a failsafe against thievery or human error. One uniform missing might not seem a big deal, but…” she stopped when she saw he was rolling his eyes over the lecture. “All right, your shift is over, Initiate.”

“Really?” he jumped up, but hesitated to go.

“Go before I change my mind,” she snapped at him, trying to hide how much his attempt to flee amused her. She watched as he left everything behind and disappeared behind the corner in less than ten seconds. Jacobs was a good kid, but he was impatient, always bored and didn’t listen to reason. Over all, he was a typical teenager.

Haynes sighed and checked how many containers separated her from her cup of hot coffee after duty. Way too much, she frowned.

 

“I say, the Initiates are worse every passing year,” she took a sip of her well-deserved coffee, and absently watched the signals dancing on the closest oscilloscope’s screen. It just passed 1930, her shift ended just so.

“Or you are getting more impatient every year,” Scribe Bennett rebutted her.

Haynes couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say something mean like that. “Hey, don’t you imply I’m old! I’m not even thirty!”

“Whoa, easy Haynes,” he raised his hands in theatrical protest, “I would never!”

Haynes nodded stiffly, but restrained her imaginary horses. When Bennett saw it was safe to speak again, he added, “I was just trying to say that you too _were_ an adolescent once, and someone had to deal with your nonsense back then,” he explained, and put his boots up to the frame of the radio. “A Knight or a parent probably, who must’ve developed a few gray hairs while at it.”

“Hey, I…” she started to defend herself, but she realized he was right. She sighed.

“Letting him go was the best option today,” he carried on, “there isn’t much he would learn from taking inventory of battle supplies anyway.”

“Battle supplies? What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you noticed that all cargo coming in never leaves the base? Uniforms, guns, ammo, medical supplies, and last week was all about the T-60s.”

Of course Haynes noticed, she took into inventory a considerable amount of those. But she hadn’t consider it a big deal. Almost all Brotherhood supplies were battle supplies. Given that the order was a paramilitary organization there was no reason to wonder about that.

Yet still... Every week, thursday afternoon a large compartment full of ration arrived. It was much more than the contingent in the air force base would require, yet it still kept coming in. Haynes mentioned it to Knight-Sergeant Gavil once, but he quickly dismissed her that is was very much intended. Bennett had to be right.

“Maybe there’s an expedition coming up,” she guessed but Bennett just shook his head tiredly.

“If you want to call it that way...” he agreed resignedly.

“How would you call it then?” she replicated curiously.

“War. And I even have an idea against whom,” he noted, glancing up at a communique pinned to the bulletin board. The announcement was short, the word Serpens printed in burning red on it. Unlike Bennett, she was not familiar with that radio alias.

“And what’s Serpens then?”

Bennett looked around to check if they were alone and lowered his voice, “Officially I shouldn’t know, but I suspect it’s the Institute.”

Haynes instinctively leaned closer, “ _The_ Institute? Those eggheads who created the synths?” she whispered with wide eyes and Bennett nodded. The mysterious Institute and their synths nettled the Brotherhood enough to make them interested in finding them.

“Yes, them,” he agreed, glancing around again but they were still alone.

“You’re imagining things, Bennett,” she opposed him. “If remember correctly, the Institute is in the Commonwealth, more than 400 miles away from us.”

“China was on the other side of the planet and that didn’t stop them!” he enthused, referring to the devastating Great War. Haynes rolled her eyes, somehow doubting that the Institute had access to nuclear warheads. Bennett sighed, making an attempt to calm himself. “Look, it’s just a theory, but it explains why the officers are secretive and uptight. We are preparing to something big. It’s like we are just waiting for the starting pistol to fire.”

“Well, we gonna find out sooner or later,” she concluded the debate. “What are you doing at the radio, by the way? It’s not exactly your specialty.”

“I switched shifts with Fulmer. He wanted to spend some time with his Knight. Who am I to stand between two lovebirds?”

“Arcturus won’t be happy when he finds out,” she warned her. The Star Paladin was tasked with supervising the base about a year ago and most of the personnel wished the previous commander back.

“I don’t give a damn what he thinks. As long as I do my duties and all tasks are accomplished he can’t find a grip on me,” he protested rebelliously.

“He can still make your life miserable,” she added worriedly. “Why is that light blinking green now? It was orange up to now.”

“ _...do you copy?_ ” she heard a faint voice filtering through.

“What was that?” she asked, needlessly snubbing him as he snatched his feet from the table, positioning himself next to the radio.

“I don’t know...” he mumbled and listened intently and meddled with something to clear the signal, but for a maddening moment there was only static sizzling.

“ _This is Gladius to Scabbard. Gladius to Scabbard, do you copy?_ ” the caller repeated insistently, voice distorted by the interference, but the sheer tone of the speaker made her uneasy. Though he was speaking calmly, she felt the urgency in his tone.

‘Scabbard’ was the official callsign of the Prydwen, but it wasn’t widely used, since the ship was down to skeleton crew in the last year, for reasons beyond her knowledge. Maybe it had to do something with Bennett’s theory as well. Ever since the ship’s radio traffic flowed through the air force base itself. But who on Earth could be this ‘Gladius’?

“This is Scabbard, identify yourself,” Bennett demanded gamely. He wasn’t in the mood to brook pranks. He never was.

Haynes prompted a search on the adjacent terminal, in hopes to find anything about this ‘Gladius’, but she did not succeed. Either it was made up or she wasn’t authorized to see. She was just a regular scribe after all, her access was quite limited.

“ _Paladin Danse, registration number Dies-Noctis-Four-Zero-Seven-Penna_ ,” the other side answered confidently, reciting his identification without hesitation.

Haynes heard about the Paladin. Everyone did. The man had quite a reputation and the Knights who returned from missions with him praised his prowess and insight. Not once Haynes categorized the artifacts retrieved by his ‘sweep and retrieve’ missions. She missed that job, to be honest, it was much more fascinating than counting sweaters. She did another query, this time looking for the Paladin’s current orders. She understood right away why weren’t there news and stories of him recently. He was leading a standard long range recon mission to the area known as the Commonwealth. The Commonwealth! He was to investigate the whereabouts of another team went missing there. If he was calling from _over there_ he had to have a good reason to do so.

“Roger that,” Bennett said flatly and gathered a clipboard to take notes. “What’s your position?”

“ _Cambridge Police Station, grid reference A109_ ,” the Paladin answered, seemingly having no reservations against the interrogation.

“Please repeat,” Bennett furrowed his brows and snapped back maybe a little too harshly, considering he was speaking to a superior officer.

“ _Grid reference Arx. One. Zero. Nine_ ,” the Paladin repeated the map coordinates patiently and Bennett absently scribbled the unusual sequence down. “ _Cambridge Police Station._ ”

“Uh-huh,” he blurt out intelligibly after he wrote the location down, adding a sizeable question mark to express his dubiety. Haynes buried her face in her palm momentarily. “Please wait,” he added when Haynes impatiently waved for him and he muted the microphone with his palm. “What?” he barked at her quietly.

Haynes impatiently shook her head. “Cambridge is in the Commonwealth,” she explained but Bennett just stared at her blankly. “The Paladin is on recon duty to the Commonwealth,” she gestured at the screen, still showing her last search results.

Bennett scanned the screen quickly and his face elongated as he proceeded.

“How could they signal from that far?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, but it must be important,” she said and nudged him to answer. Bennett’s eyes widened a little as he turned back to the radio.

“Confirm that you are transmitting from the Commonwealth,” he asked diffidently, scowling.

“ _Affirmative_ ,” the Paladin replied curtly.

Bennett shot her a ‘what-the-hell’ look and Haynes tried not to reply with an ‘I-said-so’ look herself, but she failed.

“Roger that,” Bennett swallowed, converting his question mark to an exclamation mark. “Anything urgent to report?”

Haynes was relieved that Bennett came to his senses quite fast.

“ _We recorded a unique energy reading in the area, potentially caused by Serpens_ ,” the answer came and Bennett’s jaw dropped, underlining the codeword twice. Haynes applauded Bennett’s instincts for a moment.

“Roger Serpens, need to report it to the Elder,” he informed the Paladin. “Do you have equipment to transfer the data?”

A few moments of silence followed, when only the interference creaked over the channel. There were at least two heavily irradiated areas between the recon team and the radio station, which had a toll on the signal.

“ _Affirmative_ ,” the Paladin acknowledged from over hundreds of miles at last.

Bennett nodded relaxed and scribbled something down. “Transfer the readings now, Scabbard over,” he instructed the recon team and reached to cease communication, then hesitantly added, “Ad Victoriam.” For a moment static sizzle filled the air, then the channel fell silent.

Haynes shook her head, “Ad Victoriam, _sir_ ,” she chided her fellow scribe. “At least you didn’t introduce yourself, otherwise you’d be up to comeuppance from the Paladin later.”

“Hardly, he has more immediate problems at hand,” he murmured, not really taking heed of her as he made a clean copy of the transmission. Haynes never saw him write that nicely before and it took him quite some time to keep it readable. “May I ask you to do something, Dora?” he rasped nervously. The fact that he called her by her given name made her uneasy, and not without reason. She learned to limit the amount of trust she put into people the hard way. Sometimes these lessons started by the other person starting to call her Dora.

“Depends,” she tilted her head suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

“Get this to the Star Paladin,” he said and handed her the clean copy.

“Why should I? I’m off duty,” she protested shaking her head. There was no way she would go there after hours.

“We have orders to report any and all mentions of Serpens over the radio immediately to the Elder,” he explained, pointing at the communique what stated the same. “I can’t leave the radio, but this is urgent. You bring it to him, and he will report it to the Citadel.” She somehow doubted that he was the right person to report if it was of immediate importance, but he was the highest ranking officer at the base currently. Safe for Lancer-Captain Kells, but he made it quite clear he was not to be bothered unless it directly involved the Prydwen. She debated inwardly if this call qualified as such or not, as the Paladin used the ship’s codename.

“Do you truly believe what you said before the radio call? About the Institute?” Haynes asked guardedly, willing to heed his word now, and accepted the sheet of paper gingerly.

“The Institute formed from the C.I.T. and the C.I.T. was in the Commonwealth and so is Gladius. Their orders were to report back any unusual activity and _they just did that_. What else could it mean?”

Bennett had to be right, off all the potential causes it was the most likely. A woman’s voice transmitting through the radio prevented her from any response.

_“Gladius to Scabbard, do you copy?”_

“This is Scabbard,” Bennett responded, a new sheet of paper already at hand. “Ready to transmit the readings?”

 _“Ready,”_ she acknowledged merrily.

Bennett fed something to his terminal and responded. “Roger that.”

 _“Initiating standard redundant data transfer, Haylen out,”_ she signed off and the data started to flow in a few moments later.

“Haylen? Such as _the_ Scribe Haylen?” Haynes asked mouth agape.

“I suppose,” Bennett burbled, checking the transmission parameters one last time before he stood up, stretching himself. ‘Standard redundant data transfer’ meant that it will take quite some time to come through, as it was both encoded and sent repeatedly. “Why?”

“She’s a legend, Ron,” Haynes enthused. She never met Scribe Haylen before, but inevitably encountered her work. If she had a hand in something, it usually meant there were no factual errors or other mistakes involved. Her handwriting was the most beautiful she ever saw and her terminal entries were thoroughgoing. Haynes was often mistaken for Haylen and initially she was upset about it, but she got used to the phenomenon and when she realized who she was compared to, she took pride in it. “Wish I could be like her. Her work is extraordinary, I saw some of her research data about artifacts, she’s accurate and--”

“--Dora, hurry! That report needs to get to the Elder!” Bennett warned her impatiently.

Haynes looked at the clipboard in her hand and sighed resignedly.

“Right, but you owe me one!” she agreed and hastily left the radio room.

 

Haynes stood in front of the door which separated her from Star Paladin Arcturus. She was there for about two minutes already. When Bennett urged her to come here he convinced her that it was important, but standing in front of the Star Paladin’s private quarters her courage slipped away. It was not too late yet, but she still felt it would be inappropriate to bother the Paladin. He was known to be ill-tempered, even on his better days he was moody. What if he’ll be mad that she bothered him?

Haynes took a deep breath and steeled herself. The Elder has to have this report. _Better be over it._ She knocked once then after brief pause three more times, each for every syllable of his rank.

“What the…? Come in,” a hoarse voice filtered out. Haynes placed her hand on the door handle and hesitated a moment before entering. “I won’t bite, I promise,” he added impatiently.

Haynes pushed the door open and entered the premise, “I’m sorry to bother you, sir.”

The Star Paladin let out an annoyed snort. He was laying on his bed, eyes shut, one hand tucked lazily under his nape, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Are you here because you lost a bet?” he asked tiredly, glancing up at her with piercing green eyes.

“No, I… what?” Haynes didn’t understood what he was talking about.

“No, you’re not,” he deducted frowning and his gaze flickered from her confused face to the clipboard in her hands. He motioned for the report and she lept forward to hand it to him.

Haynes studied Star Paladin Arcturus’ expression as he attentively read the report. First he frowned, then his brows shot up and eyes grew round, then he narrowed them, and finally pursed his lips.

“Scribe, we’re going to present this to Elder Maxson tomorrow at 0800,” he announced, “Meet me at the landing platform at 0630.”

They say there’s nothing wrong with fear and Haynes agreed with it.  As long as one understood what made them afraid, there was a great chance that by overcoming it, the experience will make the individual stronger. As a little girl she was afraid of super mutants, her closest friend was killed by one, so she joined the Brotherhood when they came around her settlement on a recruiting run to avenge her. She learned how to defeat the them and sniped more of the damned greenskins than how many friends and brothers and sisters she lost to them. She was said to be good shooter among the Scribes. She understood why she feared the muties: they were stronger than humans, smart enough to use automatic weapons but too dumb to live peacefully with the other subhuman species.

Flying however was a completely different matter. To be lifted from the ground by whatever means elicited an irrational fear in her. If men were to fly, they would have wings to do that. Unluckily for her, most of the Brotherhood's operations involved the use of Vertibirds.

“Sir?” she managed meekly.

“Something amiss, Scribe?” he asked with an expression between boredom and annoyance. She had nothing to do with any of this, she was just a messenger. Why was she condemned to fly with the news she had nothing to do with?

“I… Sir, it was Scribe Bennett who conducted radio traffic with Gladius, not me. I’m not a radio expert,” she stammered, trying to escape the situation she got into.

“Neither is Bennett. You are probably more able to do communications duty than he is. What the hell any of you two were doing at the radio anyway?” he asked, starting to lose his patience.

“Um, he switched shifts with a friend of his and I just popped by after my shift was over, sir.”

Star Paladin Arcturus let out tired sigh.

“I guess I’ll have to talk with Knight-Sergeant Lawson about supervising the work of his subordinates,” he mused, seemingly not very fond of the idea. Lawson was the co-changer of Gavil.  “You are a Quill scribe, right?” he changed topic.

“Yes, sir.” The Brotherhood had three castes for its scribes. The order of Sword, the Shield and the Quill. At first she was in the Order of the Shield, but she was not very pleased by scraping rust from various steel surfaces with various techniques, so she requested reassignment to Proctor Quinlan’s order. Now she damned the day the idea conceived in her mind.

“Good. I want you to perform a preliminary analysis by tomorrow morning. 0630, don’t be late. Dismissed,” the Star Paladin barked.

Haynes fell into despair. Not only she wasn’t fit to analyze the data flowing in, but to fly to the Citadel? She was sick from the thought and she became rooted to the ground. There must be plenty of other Scribes more worthy than her. There must be something she can do. Someone, she can talk to...

“Why are you still here?” he asked annoyed. “Analyze the data. Pronto!”

Haynes admitted to her defeat. There was nothing she could say to convince him. Well, what was the worst to happen, other than getting into a scrape in front of none other than Elder Maxson? Nothing to worry about. Bennett will owe her a big one for this.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured and retreated out of his quarters before she’d give him a chance to be more upset.

 

“Then he outright ordered me to analyze these readings,” Haynes snivelled to Bennett, who was listening to her with a pained face. “I don’t have a smattering of signal analysis,” she burst out sourly.

Bennett was slowly shaking his head, “I’m sorry Dora. We’ll work out something, okay?” Haynes appreciated that he tried to cheer her up and rewarded her with a wan smile. “Look, the readings are still coming in, why don’t you eat something until then?” he proposed. He was right, she needed the energy if she was about to stay up late. Her stomach grumbled loudly in agreement.

“Yeah, good idea,” she said as she pushed herself off from the angular frame of the deep range radio. She moved absently, her thoughts were whirling around the worst possible outcomes of her unpleasant situation. She was relatively sure that the task was beyond her abilities, so there was no way to please the Star Paladin. The only question was how much she’ll gonna mess it up. Would the Star Paladin draw her along to the Citadel even without any analysis? Or should she find someone who can do it instead? How much power he had over her anyway?

“What can I get you?”

She realized that the question was directed to her, “Errm, what’s on the menu?”

The mess officer raised his eyebrows and pointed at the blackboard behind him, “Just what you see, nothing special today. So, what will it be?”

“Iguana-on-a-stick, please,” she murmured, investigating her empty cafeteria tray with great interest.

“There you go. Anything else?”

“A Nuka-Cola, please.”

“That’ll be 53 caps,” he declared and Haynes just noticed that she forgot to bring her wallet.

“Write in on Bennett’s account, he owes me one,” she said and he nodded, writing it up.

The mess hall was almost empty, the only figure sat at a table not far. She got up to her and asked, “Is this seat free?” Any conversation with anyone would be better than to sink into her thoughts.

The other woman glanced up at her surprised, and a warm smile spread over her face quickly. “Of course, Scribe, I could use some company,” she sighed wistfully. She had auburn hair tied into an elegant, pre-war style bun and cornflower blue eyes. She had freckles all over her face, most pronounced on her cheek and nose. Her uniform was clean and untarnished and dark grey. _Oh god_. Haynes bit her lips when she realized that she was a high ranking officer, a Paladin at least, if not higher.

“Back from a mission, ma’am?” she tried to small talk and picked off a bit of iguana from the stick and shoved in into her mouth quickly.

“Something like that, yes,” she smiled, lost in thought. “There was a nasty feral nest in a metro station, so I cleared it out,” she said casually. Haynes narrowed her eyes as she processed what she heard. Did she said she cleared it? Alone? Noone in their right mind would go into a feral infested metro station alone. Except…

“Sentinel MacLaine?” she asked agaze when she managed to put the pieces together. She never met her personally, but heard that she was beautiful and kind and good-hearted. And very capable of pulling something like that off.

“Now that you correctly guessed who I am, may I know your name too?” she asked back, head tilting in a playful way, eyes sparkling mischievously. The Sentinel joined the Brotherhood a decade ago, and helped to achieve their boldest goals. She was friends with Star Paladin Cross, she saw Liberty Prime in action, and most importantly, she provided clean water to the Capital Wasteland when she finished the work her father started.

“Scribe Haynes, ma’am,” she said dutifully but her mind was already ahead a few steps. Maybe she could help her.

“Nice to meet you, Scribe,” she said and Haynes managed to produce a wry smile. “What’s the matter?” MacLaine asked alarmed.

Haynes took a deep breath and swallowed before starting, “I got an assignment from Star Paladin Arcturus what I believe is beyond me,” she admitted cautiously.

“That sounds like him,” she snorted angrily. “What does he want?”

“He ordered me to perform analysis on some signal readings that we… well, Scribe Bennett captured from the Commonwealth over the radio, and...” The Sentinel’s brows raised at this point and she held up her hand to stop her politely.

“You’re telling me that Recon Team Gladius made contact from Boston?” she urged her.

“From Cambridge, but yes, ma’am,” she nodded. Haynes was sure she didn’t mentioned the codename ‘Gladius’ yet, so the Sentinel must have been debriefed about it. If that was the case, then this was truly something serious.

“You heard the traffic?” she asked about, fixing her narrowly.

“Yes, I was there when they made contact,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Have you heard the codeword ‘ _Serpens_ ’ by any chance?” Haynes didn’t understood what stirred the Sentinel up, but it was big. Since she knew about the codenames it was probably much bigger than she thought.

“Yes, the readings are suspected to be caused by them, according to Paladin Danse. The data is still coming in and Bennett asked me to report it to Star Paladin Arcturus.”

“I’ll go check on Scribe Bennett,” she declared thoughtfully.

“May I accompany you, ma’am?” she asked shyly. “If I am about to perform this analysis, I might need some extra information about what to look for.”

“I would have no objection against it, but you look famished. I need you to finish your dinner. Vertibirds and an empty stomach don’t go well together,” she said shuddering, probably from an earlier experience. Haynes’ eyes grew round.

“Ma’am, if I may?” she tried to resist sheepishly, “I am afraid of flying.”

“I will make inquiries about Lancer Andrews for you, he flies like he was one with his ‘bird. We couldn’t be in better hands. Meet me at the landing platform in 15 minutes,” MacLaine announced assertively and jumped to her feet, gathering her tray. “We will report to Elder Maxson, at once.”  She looked positively exhilarated for some reason.

“But,” Haynes tried to object.

“Arthur needs to know about it, immediately. Not tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Haynes gave up. It seemed that she just swapped her morning flight to a night one. At least she’ll be over it sooner.

 

As the Vertibird crossed the Capital Wasteland, Haynes scoured the horizon. The world was so much different from above. Almost seemed peaceful, like it wasn’t teeming with irradiated monsters and people with dark intentions. She clutched on her safety belt, which securely anchored to her bench in the back of the aircraft, while the Sentinel was sitting next to the pilot. A pair of Knights were accompanying them to provide fire support should the need arise, one of them in Power Armor manning the minigun, the other sitting beside her. With the Sentinel aboard she had no doubt that happen what may, she will not die today.

Lancer Andrews was not quite happy about the fact that he had to fly nighttime, but he did what the Sentinel asked for. He was gifted indeed, Haynes didn’t feel the take off and he maneuvered so delicately that it had nothing to do with the queasiness in her stomach. The Sentinel managed to absolve her from the task of the analysis, but she still had to stand in front of the Elder. She would’ve gladly exchange these tasks, to be honest. She met the Elder a few years ago, when he promoted her to the rank of Scribe along with a few other then-Initiates. It was a brief formal meeting but she memorized those piercing, glacial eyes for a life. She wasn’t looking forward to stand in their cross-fire tonight.

“Are you alright?” she heard the Knight’s voice from the left.

“I just don’t like to fly,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be on the ground in a few minutes,” she assured her and squeezed her shoulder. She really appreciated her efforts, but her jitter was beyond her concern. “There is the Citadel,” she jerked her head to the right and Haynes peeked over her shoulder to see. It wasn’t her first time here, but the first time she saw it at night. She spent a few years here before she got assigned to the Air Force Base, but she never saw it from above. The lights filtering out from the windows in the courtyard were fluttering invitingly.

Andrews started a slight curve and simply touched down in the courtyard. The Sentinel patted him on his shoulder and asked him to wait for them. He nodded his agreement. MacLaine helped her down and Haynes was relieved to feel ground under her boots again. The Sentinel gently shepherded her inside the rings. Everyone they met hailed the Sentinel amiably, and she gently dodged any and all conversations by mentioning ‘urgent’ and ‘Maxson’ in the same sentence, to which the recipients always nodded hastily and returned to their previous doings. They reached the Solar in little time and only the door stood between them and the Elder.

“Are you ready?” the Sentinel asked, raising her fist to knock, stopping herself just so.

“Ready,” she said, hoping she won’t spot the obvious lie.

MacLaine knocked and a raspy voiced filtered out, “What is it?”

“I’d rather speak with you without a door between us, Arthur,” the Sentinel smirked and Haynes’ jaw dropped. As far as she could tell, she was the only one who could get away with addressing the Elder by his first name and speaking to him like that in general. She heard steps fast approaching and she managed to don an acceptable expression by the time the door swung open and the glacial glare was casted upon her. She hastily saluted the Elder and he returned it obligatory and reflected her from under his dark brows for a moment before he turned to the Sentinel and his features softened.

“Caitlin,” he greeted the Sentinel cordially. Apparently they were on a first name basis. He motioned them to enter the Solar and took a seat. “Tell me, what brings you two to me at this late hour?” He was hospitable, but Haynes took a hint of irritation and impatience from his glances behind his steely facade.

Haynes gingerly sat down on the sofa and the Sentinel settled herself on hers like she was home, “Gladius made contact.”

Elder Maxson’s eyes grew a little and he tensed up. “Are you sure?” he rasped, casting his glare at MacLaine. Haynes knew some Initiates who would faint from such an intense glare, but the Sentinel was obviously used to it. No wonder, she knew Maxson for ten years, they met when he was but a Squire and she was but a wandering wastelander. A lot of irradiated water ran down on the Potomac since, the kid grew to be the leader who reunited the Brotherhood of Steel and the Outcasts and she was said to be helping him assume his position.

“Scribe Haynes was present when they made contact from the Commonwealth,” she said and the icy eyes flickered to Haynes curiously. Since the last time, the Elder’s beard grew stronger, making him look much older than the twenty years he had.

“That’s good news,” he grated with suspense but before he could say more, the Sentinel cut in.  

“Star Paladin Arcturus will arrive with the report tomorrow morning and he’s quite excited about it, so try to act surprised,” she advised, which elicited a homely smile from the Elder.

“I don’t promise anything, Sentinel,” he bantered good-heartedly with MacLaine and turned his gaze upon Haynes once again, “Now that you are already here, I’d like to hear your report, Scribe.”

Haynes suddenly felt that sitting down on the sofa was not the best idea, as it made hard to fixate her shoes.

“Not a whole two hours ago a deep range call came in from the Commonwealth. The caller identified himself as Paladin Danse and reported that his team recorded some unique energy readings in the area, what he believes was caused by Serpens,” Haynes recited in one breath. Maxson furrowed his brows and nodded, urging her to continue. “Scribe Bennett asked them to transmit the readings and the data was still coming in when we departed Adams Air Force Base.”

“I see,” he said thoughtfully, staring in front of himself for a moment. “Anything else?”

“Star Paladin Arcturus asked me to perform a preliminary analysis, but I wasn’t fit to do it, so Sentinel MacLaine absolved me from the duty, sir.” She was silent for a moment, then added, “That is all, sir.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment and Haynes was taken aback to see the otherwise confident and intimidating Elder searching for words, “I’d like to ask you something.”

“Of course, sir,” she nodded diffidently.

“Judging from what you heard, how urgent the tone of the Paladin seemed?” Was that concern glistening in his eyes?

“He didn’t seemed to be pronouncedly stressed, sir,” she said tentatively.

“No, of course not,” he shot her an impatient look, “Paladin Danse is battle hardened,” he agreed not unkindly. “But I want to hear what your instincts say, Scribe. Your sixth sense, if you may. Since you were there, not me, I need to rely on your assertion about this.” It was this moment when Haynes understood why she had to come personally. The Sentinel knew the Elder all too well and knew he would ask something like that. She knew, that whatever she felt during the transmission, the Elder wanted to hear exactly that. There were no good or wrong answers, only spoken and unspoken words.

“Sir, the conversation was short, and I won’t palter; some desperation filtered through. He sounded relieved to make contact with us, but there was something unsettling in his tone.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Scribe Haynes,” he nodded curtly, “I understand that it was an unusual request.” Haynes was not sure what kind of answer he waited for, if he wanted any.

“No problem, sir,” she stuttered and he almost unnoticeably nodded. Haynes inaudibly sighed in relief. This went better than she expected. The other scribes probably won’t believe her when she tells them.

Elder Maxson suddenly stood up and went to a bureau which held various liquors. He turned his back to them, so they were unable to read his expression. He stood there, lost in thoughts for long minutes and Haynes started to feel uncomfortably, so she glanced at the Sentinel nervously, who calmed her with a friendly hand gesture. Maxson held a bottle of scotch in his hands. “I received this bottle from Danse the day before his team departed. We agreed to clink our glasses the next time we meet. I want to know, _when_ will it happen,” he said and carefully put the cherished bottle back. He picked up another one and poured some whiskey to three glasses, handing them both one. The Sentinel accepted it casually, like it was a thing they usually did together after duty. Probably it was. Haynes took hers without a second thought. It was not an everyday occurrence to drink with superior officers, and she would be damned to miss it out. While Maxson picked up his own, MacLaine stood up and Haynes followed her example.

Maxson raised his whiskey to a toast, “To the fortunate survival of Recon Team Gladius.”

“To Paladin Danse,” MacLaine added, earning a wan smile from Maxson.

“To Scribe Haylen,” Haynes felt obligated to add. All Recon Teams relied on their scribes just as much as their paladins. The Elder raised a brow in approval. Apparently he seemed to value his Scribes’ job just much.

“Cheers,” he said and emptied his glass in one go and placed it down. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood like that for a while, contemplating his next move. Sentinel MacLaine took her time with her drink, and so did Haynes. The whiskey was strong and savoury, so she took little swigs of it, both to enjoy the quality of the drink and to prevent it from going to her head quickly. It would be very unpleasant to stumble in front of the Elder and the Sentinel. “When does Star Paladin Arcturus plan to arrive?” he spoke up finally.

“0800, sir,” Haynes hurried to answer him. This was the type of job she was used to; remembering details and reporting them later.

“Very well. I want a meeting organized tomorrow at 0900. I want everyone there; both of you, Scribe Bennett, Head Scribe Rothchild and his Proctors, Lancer-Captain Kells and all Star Paladins as well.”

“I’ll make arrangements,” MacLaine offered and Maxson nodded his approval.

“Good. Scribe Haynes, I need you to find Archivist Knox, I want him to start analyze the data as soon as possible,” he ordered her and Haynes’ stomach clenched in barren protest. Following the order meant at least two more trips between the Citadel and the Adams Air Force Base. She wasn’t sure how much more she can take today.

Luckily for her, the Sentinel came to her protection, “Scribe Haynes doesn’t tolerate flying well. Also, her shift ended hours ago. Let her rest, Arthur.” She spoke softly but confidently and he listened to her attentively. According to the saying behind every successful man there was a woman and according to foul language in Maxson’s case this certain woman was MacLaine.

“All right. You are to remain at the Citadel, and I expect to see you tomorrow at 0900,” Maxson decided to change his orders. Haynes was grateful for the Sentinel’s intervention, but she feared Arcturus’ wrath. He was not one who tolerated well if he was bypassed.

“Sir, what about Star Paladin Arcturus? He will be furious if I won’t show up as he ordered,” she objected helplessly.

“I believe the Sentinel already exempted you from that duty,” he replied slightly confused. MacLaine beckoned in agreement, but Haynes shook her head desperately.

“From performing the analysis, sir. Not from reporting to you with him.”

“There’s no need to report twice,” he told her reassuringly. “Should he have any revulsions, he’ll have to discuss it with me.” An annoyed scowl crossed his features, letting on what he thought about that.

“Yes, sir,” Haynes succumbed to his reasoning. To think, having the Elder at her back was not a bad thing.

“It’s about damn time you put your foot down and confront Arcturus,” MacLaine asserted gratefully. “He needs a reminder about the Brotherhood’s values. That’s only good that he comes to the house for the slap,” she finished sardonically. Star Paladin Arcturus didn’t enjoy great popularity in the base, and it seemed the leadership wasn’t any different in that aspect.

“Yes he does, but don’t forget he was an Outcast, Caitlin,” he sighed wearily, “I need to handle him carefully. I was able to keep him at bay by placing him in charge of the Air Force Base, and I am aware that this only delayed dealing with him.”

It was liberating to know that Arcturus’ attitude and ways didn’t go unnoticed, but still, Haynes felt like this conversation wasn’t meant for her ears.

The Sentinel didn’t really care however. “He doesn’t care about the Brotherhood this much,” she ranted passionately. “He has more people behind him than you might realize, Arthur,” she warned him worriedly.

“I’ll deal with him when the time comes,” he said sternly. “I won’t tolerate dissension in the Brotherhood, especially not now. Hopefully the months to come will resolve this problem.”

He casted his icy gaze at Haynes like he just remembered that she was still present, “If you have any questions, now’s the time to ask, otherwise consider yourself dismissed.”

She swallowed almost audibly, but the alcohol in her bloodstream made her bold. She already learned more today than she should, so she decided to ask what really interested her, “Actually, there is one thing, sir.”

“Out with it,” he approved curtly.

“Sir, is ‘Serpens’ the codename of the Institute?” she asked gingerly, fearing to exceed her scope.

“That’s right,” he admitted, eyes narrowing, staring into her soul. He know there was another question to come.

“Are we… I mean, is the Brotherhood going into war against the Institute?” she asked almost bluntly.

“It would be premature to make any assumptions,” he deterred to answer.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t give her that crap, Arthur!” the Sentinel cried out chagrined.

“Watch your tone, Caitlin. I’m not the hapless Squire you used to know anymore,” he rebutted her irritably. Haynes was very much familiar with this kind of rivalry, she saw it many times between siblings. She suppressed a smile over the fact that these two were japing like brother and sister. That they were, in a sense. The Sentinel's outburst, and the way she dragged her along, even the restlessness in Bennett’s eyes told her that it was true.

“Half of the Brotherhood feels that something is coming,” she interpreted, calming down. “The Prydwen is stationed at the air force base for over a year. No major offensive was approved. We stocked up on resources and rations. You can’t keep your troops in the dark forever. She’ll know in a few days anyway, what’s the difference?”

“If you insist, Caitlin,” he surrendered morosely and casted his glacial glare at Haynes once again. “The Institute and their latest creations the ‘synths’ are horribly dangerous. I won’t allow them to continue this line of experimentation. There is no one more befitting to deal with them than the Brotherhood of Steel. The only question remains is when will it be done. If the data from Paladin Danse’s findings prove to be helpful, I’m willing to speed up the process. I won’t stand by idly to let the Institute unleash whatever they plan upon humanity. If it means we have to travel to the Commonwealth to start a war, so be it. I will personally lead the campaign to seek out and destroy the Institute.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please, consider that I have never played Fallout 3, so all my knowledge about the Capital Wasteland comes from the Wiki and the stories of my fiancé.
> 
> Also, I know Maxson states that, "There hasn't been a Sentinel serving under me for many years now," but I decided to alter that fact.
> 
>  
> 
> This is my entry for a contest over at dA, "Average Joe Day in the Life" (Summer Contest Single Entry @ The-Bards-College)
> 
> https://lothrilzul.deviantart.com/journal/Summer-Contest-Single-Entry-687914118


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